Page 35 of Merry with Me

“What?”

I turn back to her. “I’ll get your door.”

“I can get my own door.”

“I’m sure you can, but I want to do it.”

“Ollie, are you a closet romantic?”

“Just stay put,” I grumble and climb out of the SUV. I race around the front of the car and pull open her door, offering her my hand. “I hope you’re hungry.” I lead her to the house with her fingers entwined with mine. As soon as I push open the door that leads to the mudroom, which leads to the kitchen, the smell of dinner wafts through the air.

“If I wasn’t, I would be now. That smells amazing. What can I do to help?” she asks.

“Grab yourself a drink from the fridge and keep me company.”

“You want something?”

“Sure, a glass of tea. The glasses are to the left of the fridge.” I sneak around her, pull out a can of biscuits, and use it as an excuse to slide my hand along the small of her back. At this point, I’m like a man in the desert, desperate for a drink of water. Only my desperation is for the woman standing in my kitchen.

“Why marketing?” I ask once she’s seated and I have the biscuits in the oven. I stand on the opposite side of the island, trying to keep a little distance between us. I’m not sure I can be trusted. Last night proved that.

“I enjoy the field, and I’m a people person. It makes the interactions with other departments and outside resources easier for me. When I was in high school, I did some social media for my dad’s shop, as well as my uncle Orrin’s and my aunts Palmer and Scarlett’s photography studio. It was actually my aunt Palmer who suggested it. After I researched it a little, I knew it was the career for me.”

“You’re good at it.”

She smiles. “How do you know? We’ve been working together for a couple of weeks, and at the beginning of that, you scowled at everything I said.”

I scowl at her now, and she laughs, pointing her finger at me.

“It wasn’t you,” I say. “I didn’t want to plan the gala. It’s the holiday I’m not a fan of.”

“And now?”

“Still not a fan,” I admit.

“Come on. Think about all the fun you had growing up. I know you miss it.”

“We did have fun, but those parties included someone from my past. Someone who will never be a part of my future. It’s hard to see the good anymore. It’s all shadowed by the bad.”

“I’m sorry.” She tilts her head to the side to study me, and I can feel my skin burn from her attention. I turn to check the biscuits in the oven when I know damn good and well they’re not even close to being done yet.

“I think you should let me help you.”

“All we’re waiting on is the biscuits,” I tell her.

“No, I think you should let me help you find your love for the holidays again.”

I’m shaking my head before she’s even finished speaking. “It’s done.” My voice is firm, and I don’t leave room for negotiation. I clear my throat, feeling like an ass for being so short with her, but that’s me. That’s who I am. I change thesubject. “So, what exactly do you need from Jerry at this meeting tonight?”

“Nothing, to be honest. He just likes to touch base and make sure he’s executing the project to my plans. We meet for a few, talk about it, and then it’s good.”

I’ll bet. I’m sure Jerry does anything he can to meet with her. Fuck, look at me. I’m making her dinner two nights in a row. Welcoming her into my house, touching her when I know it’s a temptation I don’t need, but I do it all anyway.

Silence surrounds us as I watch her and she stares down at the bottle of water in her hands. It’s not uncomfortable, but I want to know more about her. “Two siblings, right?” I ask her.

“Yes. Brooklyn and Beckham. I’m the oldest, and Brooke is the baby.”

“What was that like?”

---